


Blue Flames Burn The Hottest

by andrastes_grace



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Death, Gen, POV Female Character, Pre-Canon, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 03:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9472988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrastes_grace/pseuds/andrastes_grace
Summary: Winry Rockbell's entire life changes in one moment.Pre-canon and Winry-centric, focusing on the night of the failed transmutation and the aftermath.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s a nightmare.  Or a joke.

Because when the front door bursts open and she hears Alphonse’s voice echoing from inside a suit of armour _please someone help my brother_ she wants to scream, or laugh and she can feel both bubbling up inside her.

There’s blood.  Too much blood and that’s not Ed in his arms, and if it is then any second now he’s going to sit up and laugh because it’s just a joke…

He’s so still.

And it’s Granny that’s moving fast (but she’s always so slow so that’s not right, none of this is right – it’s not real – it can’t -) her pipe falling to the floor with a noise that shakes the house as she runs to Alphonse’s – is that Alphonse? – side to help him with Ed (but that’s not Ed, it can’t _be_ Ed).

 

Hands shaking, Winry left the operating room.

Alphonse was waiting outside.  He was still wearing the suit of armour, the bloodstains hidden by the way he hugged his knees tightly into his chest.

“Al?” She gently tapped him on the shoulder, the sound echoing.  “Al its -”

 _It’s not over_.  She stops herself before she says that.

“Ed’s doing better,” she says instead.  And then, “You don’t need to keep wearing that armour.”  She doesn’t know why he’s wearing it.  She doesn’t know how he fits in it.  In everything that’s happened in the hours between the front door being kicked open and this conversation she hasn’t had a chance to ask, or wonder.

“I can’t,” the words hang helpless in the air.

“What happened?” She doesn’t want to ask the question, but it creeps its way out of her anyway.

“We just – wanted to see mum again.  It wasn’t –“ he buries his helmeted head in his hands, “it wasn’t meant to be like this.”

 

_“What are you two up to, anyway?” she asked the brothers as they walked home from school._

_“None of your business,” Ed’s answer was as direct and as rude as ever._

_“It’s a surprise,” was Alphonse’s response.  “You’ll see tomorrow!”_

 

That had only been a few hours ago.  And now Al wouldn’t even look at her, and Ed was almost kil –

 _No_.

 - Ed was very badly hurt, she corrected mentally.

“I don’t understand – who did this to you guys?”  Winry had seen a lot of amputations, probably more than the average eleven year old had, but that wasn’t unexpected when you worked with automail.  Ed’s arm and leg – she tried to forget the way it looked like something – someone – had ripped them away, as easily as she’d tear paper.

“We did,” Al’s voice sounds so small inside his armour.  “This is all my fault.  I messed it up.”

She still doesn’t want to ask, but these are her friends and they’re hurt and she wants to help.   “What…”

“The transmutation.  This is all my fault.”

She remembers when they were very young.  Ed and Al had told her they were going to make her a doll.  She missed her parents, and Ed had told her the doll was just going to be because they wanted to test the transmutation.  She’d watched, holding her new puppy in her arms, feeling Den wriggling to get out, not understanding why she couldn’t go and play with Ed and Al, as her friends drew the array in chalk on the floor of her kitchen.  And watched, as the transmutation went wrong, and what should’ve been a doll formed into a twisted mess of cloth and floor.

Granny had been so angry at them both.  They’d stayed up so long trying to work out how to put everything right again that Ed had fallen asleep in class the next day and not even realised that Pitt had spent the second half of their maths lesson doodling on his arm.

“Are you hurt?”  She realises it’s been hours and they’ve been so worried over Ed that neither she nor Granny stopped to ask Al if he was injured too.

“No.  I’m… fine.  I don’t – I don’t feel hurt.”

“We should take a look at you anyway,” her mouth is running on automatic, “I’ll get Granny.  Ed is –“

 _Having blood pumped back into his body but he’s not dying anymore_.

“- Stable now.  She can look at you.”  She’s leaving, when a huge gauntlet covered hand reaches out, grabbing her arm.  He’s holding her too tightly, squeezing like her bones will break.  She screams and Alphonse drops her arm like its burning.

“I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to – Are you hurt?”

And Winry wants to laugh because Alphonse shouldn’t be the one asking _her_ that.  She flexes her fingers and everything feels fine,

“No,” there’ll be a bruise.  But she doesn’t need to mention that, “But what about _you_?”

“I’m –“ he pauses, and she thinks he’s going to say ‘fine’ again, “Please don’t be scared,” he says instead.

She hits him lightly on the shoulder.  She’s done that hundreds of times, but the hollow echo of her hand is unnatural.  She manages a watery smile, as weak as she feels, “how can I be scared?  It’s just you, dummy.”

He takes off his helmet, hands fumbling, and leans over just slightly so she can see inside.

Empty.

 _But I can hear him_.

“I don’t feel _anything_ , Winry,” his voice comes from within the armour, but there’s nothing to make the sound.  “So I’m fine.  Really.”  The voice is too small for such a large space and Winry backs away before running.

She makes it to the lavatory in time, hands clutching either side of the toilet bowl as she throws up.

 

Afterwards she sees herself in the mirror as she washes her hands and face.  Grey skin and cheeks streaked with tears.  She doesn’t have _time_ to feel like this, but her hands shake as she reaches for the soap and –

_Stupid.  Pathetic.  Crybaby.  Useless._

“I can’t do anything to help!”

Her little tantrum doesn’t do anything except reveal how weak and fragile her voice sounds.  She presses her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror, one hand holding the side of the sink for support.

She punched the wall with the other, but it did nothing except graze her knuckles.  She rinses the blood off and tries to remember how to breath.

 

Alphonse hasn’t moved when she returns, the bucket heavy in her hands.  She sets it down, and the clean, antiseptic smell of the soap is comforting, but doesn’t mask the smell of blood.

“Al?  I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“Of course I was.  You’re my friend.  Here,”  she gets him to unwrap his hands from around his knees, so she can see the chestplate.  She dips the cloth in the bucket and, very gently – as though she’s scared she might hurt him – she cleans away the blood.


	2. Chapter 2

The last words Ed said to her were ‘none of your business’.  Winry thought she’d see him the next day, that she’d find out what the big secret was and everything would be okay.

The last time she heard him speak was a month ago.

Granny went to the Elric house.  She won’t talk about it.  She says she needs to go back, that there’s cleaning up to be done.  But the days pass and she doesn’t go near the house on the hill.

Winry speaks to Ed, tells him inconsequential things, news from the village.  All things that would bore him normally and all she wants to hear him to tell her to shut up.  Golden eyes stare past her when she looks at him.

She starts to shut herself away in her room.  She talks to Alphonse, sometimes, in the early hours of the morning when she’s getting something to eat.  He explained it, in one of those earliest nights, he doesn’t sleep.

He doesn’t talk much either. But it’s nice having the company, although she waits until she’s back in her room before she eats.

 

The first time Ed speaks is the day the soldiers come.  There’s two, the scary looking man with the dark eyes, and the woman who just seems sad. Winry doesn’t mean to meet them. She’s downstairs making tea when she hears the voices,

“That _thing_ wasn’t even human!”

She remembers a day when other soldiers came.  One gave her a sweet that he said was a speciality in Central and tells her that her parents are very brave.  He lies when he tells her they’ll be home again soon.

She finds herself making two cups of tea.

“And _you!_  You want them to do _more_ of that?  Is that what you want them to do with their lives?”

But it doesn’t matter what Granny thinks.  Ed asks for automail when the soldiers are gone.  His voice is dry from disuse.

 

Granny is drawing up plans for automail when Winry comes to see her later that day.  It occurs to Winry she’s barely spoken to her Granny since this all began.

“Granny?  I have something to show you.”

She leads the older woman up to her room and is suddenly very self-conscious about how musty it smells.  But that’s unimportant.  Nervously she points to her work table.

The leg is only half built, but the arm is completed.  Her Granny looks them over with a professional’s eye.

“Not bad.”  It’s high praise from Pinako Rockbell.  “You design these yourself?”

“Mm.  I thought – when Ed was better – he might –“ and working helped. When it was her and machines she didn’t think – couldn’t think about anything that wasn’t automail.

“I built Den’s,” she adds, “It had to be light or it would hurt her.”

“I can supervise,” her Granny says, “but the bulk of the work is going to be yours.”

“I can do it.”

“Got some things that need tweaking,” she uses her pipe to point to some parts of her original plans, “but we’ve got time.” It would be several weeks at the earliest  before Ed was ready to begin the fitting.  “You ready to fit to a human?”

She thinks of the solider with the quiet smile.

_“There’s someone I need to protect.”_

“I’m ready,” she says, blue eyes burning like a flame.

 


End file.
